


bursting into flames

by indigo_cabeswater



Category: I'll Give You the Sun - Jandy Nelson
Genre: I love them with my entire heart, M/M, Mostly Fluff, a hint of angst, basically the most important scene that we never got to see, but here's my take on it i guess, i also added more than a touch of space references, it's the reunion scene, its got a little bit of everything, multiple POVs, noahandbrian, the fire metaphors are off the charts, the pov switches a lot actually, they're really hecking cute, this entire fic is one big cliche, we were deprived yall, when people fall in love they burst into flames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26694529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_cabeswater/pseuds/indigo_cabeswater
Summary: The post came through and the cave blew up, full-on detonation, and I couldn’t stop, I didn’t want to stop thinking about him. He sent me those drawings, The Invisible Museum, and it was like his entire soul cascading through the computer screen. It was so much Noah, so much after going so long without him, and I got practically drunk on it.
Relationships: Brian Connelly/Noah Sweetwine
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	bursting into flames

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Panic attack, scroll down past the first Noah pov if you want to skip it.  
> here's a spotify playlist to listen to while you read if you want :)  
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5Fc2pNndXTNRqK6Cx9SN6j?si=HYVOEAFMT9K4ZAgQZxU33A

Noah

_I'll be there._

Those three words, beating in my brain like a heartbeat. I’ll be there. Again, again, again. Every single Thursday, 5 pm, I’m in the forest. I’ve never missed it. I usually sit under this tree and mind paint, the only art I allowed myself to do for so long. I let my thoughts wander, and my anger, my sadness, my despair drown in intangible color. I think some hope existed at the beginning, but every week that passed without Brian, the wanting was squashed farther in a box, buried deeper, and locked with as many padlocks as I could fit in the ever-hollowing cavity of my chest.

But now: there’s a promise, a response, three little words that mean Brian, real-life living breathing Brian, might appear in the trees. I’m a tight-wound tangle of hot burning nerves. As much as I try to stop thinking about it, to think about absolutely anything else, my heart steers right back. I can’t let myself think about him, I won’t let myself think about him because it can’t possibly be real. It’s not happening, it’s a lie, _don't get your hopes up, Noah._ But the three words won’t leave and the box has holes, so hope is leaking out and up my nerves and in my bloodstream and I’m electric with it, my entire body shivering and the thoughts won’t stop. I’m pacing, pacing, pacing quicker and quicker, and then all of a sudden I drop because Brian’s going to come and he’s going to think I’m an absolute maniac running circles in the forest like this. But sitting is so, so much worse now that I don’t have anything to do, to distract myself, and I’m shaking more and more, buzzing with nerves and electricity and _I need something to do_ so I jump back up and I’m pacing, pacing again and my mind is burning on a single thought. Brian. He’s coming, he’ll be here, he’s coming, _Brian_. But I stop dead, because how could I be so stupid to think he’s actually going to want to see me? He hates me because I ruined his life, I ruined his life, I ruined his life, and how did I let it get to this point? I need him so much it hurts, and now I’m falling to the ground, head between my knees, gasping for air because Brian’s not coming, he’s never going to come, and I feel the black and dark grey and blood red ocean dragging me under and my stomach twists, and twists, and twists until I’m choking and then I hear it.

Someone clears their throat.

The voice is raspy and I don’t let myself believe that it’s him.

“Hey.”

My heart stops.

Brian

Noah’s crouched on the ground, breathing shallow and holding his head in his hands. Golden light filters through the leaves and there’s a slight breeze, and it would be peaceful if he weren’t sitting like this. He’s a shattered mess on the forest floor, and the sight of him sends shockwaves through my brain. How did I ever stop caring about him? I locked him away in a cave of pure rage because I thought he ruined my life, but then he didn’t. I’m out and I’m going to college at freaking Stanford, geek heaven, and I think I’m over the anger now. I think I’m done. I never allowed myself to look in that cave and I was mad for forever, but then I wasn’t and I still kept him locked away. But the post came through and the cave blew up, full-on detonation, and I couldn’t stop, I didn’t want to stop thinking about him. He sent me those drawings, _The Invisible Museum_ , and it was like his entire soul cascading through the computer screen. It was so much Noah, so much after going so long without him, and I got practically drunk on it.

There was still a part of me that hated him, was so mad at him I couldn’t bear it, deep-rooted and webbed and a mess of knots in my stomach. But I replied and it felt like stepping off a cliff, free-falling. And now I’m standing here watching him fall apart. I’ve hit the ground and it’s all flooding back, a shock to my system, and I have no idea how I could have ever been angry. He’s not looking at me, still crouching and so, so still. His hair is gone. That beautiful mess of curls that I wanted to run my fingers through so badly one hundred percent of the time I was awake, and then even more in my dreams. He still hasn’t moved a single muscle, so I kind of half-cough, and this time my voice comes out clearer than before.

“Noah.”

I’m trying to be gentle, careful because I don’t know what he needs and he’s a landmine that’ll explode if I move the wrong way. I move forward slowly, taking small steps and making sure I don’t make too much noise or walk too fast. I’m so close.

“Hey,” I whisper, my voice too quiet. The air is still and even the birds have stopped singing, the leaves have stopped rustling, and I’m not breathing. I don’t think my heart is beating anymore. Then Noah explodes, shooting up so fast I’m nearly knocked flat on my back by the sheer force of it. His eyes go wild and his hands start shaking as words pour and pour out of his mouth. It takes me a second to recover before I can actually comprehend what he’s saying.

“...and I was a complete and total asshat, and you deserve so much more and something so much better, and I’ve never forgiven myself for doing that to you and it was the worst thing I could have ever done and I am so, so sorry.” He gasps for air and I try to say something, willing any words at all to come out of my mouth, but he isn’t done. “I’d never expect you to forgive me and you probably definitely hate me and think I’m the worst person on this planet, this entire goddamn universe, and I think you’re so angry and you have every right to be and I’m not sure why you even came back here, because what I did was so bad but I’m so sorry Brian, I’m so sorry I’m so sorry I’m so sorry.”

Tears are streaming down his face and I’m standing in shock. Leave it to Noah to not even breathe for so long and then explode into a fiery, all-consuming rant that leaves him in tears and me feeling like my heart’s been torn out and ripped to shreds. I’m undone by this, angry at myself for leaving him alone forever to deal with these thoughts, these monsters, and it takes everything in me not to break down right then and there. He’s choking on his tears and gasping for breath, with his eyes shut tight like he won’t dare to look at me. I can’t imagine what thoughts are raging in his head. I was angry with him for so long, refusing to deal with it and pushing it away, but his betrayal is long since dissolved and any resolve I had to remain mad at him escaped when I saw him crouching beneath the tree. I’m still standing, rooted to the ground, but I can’t watch him sob any longer without doing something about it. I reach out a tentative hand, take a careful step even closer, and start wiping away his tears. “Shh, Noah, shhhh, it’s okay, it’s okay. Noah, it’s okay.” He shakily grabs on to my shirt, balling it in his fist. I feel tears tracking down my chin. I didn’t even know I was crying. I keep shushing him until his breathing returns to normal, and when the shaking stops I start to talk.

Noah

“Noah, I’m not mad at you.”

I’m still holding onto his t-shirt like a lifeline. Just the feel of the cotton, of _Brian's t-shirt_ , is bringing me down from my manic rant and shaky sobs. My eyes are still closed because I don’t think I can look at him again. When he talks this time, his voice comes out calm and simple, and it takes a moment for my brain to catch up. _He's not mad at you. He's not mad at you._ I try to quiet my heart before it adopts another heartbeat. I tell myself all about how he’s just lying to make me feel better, or how he’s moved on, or how this doesn’t mean he wants me, reasons upon reasons not to get hopeful. But he continues, strong and solid.

“I’m not angry anymore. I don’t hate you. I was hurt and furious for so long, I really was, but over time it disappeared. The pain left without me knowing it, but by then I had shoved you far, far away and I didn’t give it another thought. My career is great, people accept me, I’m studying at Stanford, and I’m doing fine. I’m not mad. I can’t stand seeing you like this, Noah. I don’t think I could ever be angry at you again.” He’s saying that he’s not angry, that he could never be angry with me. This can’t be real. I’m dreaming. Doubt resides in my brain, and it fills me with despair. I start to come up with excuses, justification for why I can’t trust this, why I can’t let myself believe or hope or wish or want. I keep my eyes shut.

“I promise.” His voice breaks. “Noah, look at me. Please. Open your eyes, Noah.” He’s nearly desperate, almost pleading, but not quite. His voice was strong, unwavering, right until now. But my eyes are closed, and he’s begging me to look at him. His hands are still on my face and his fingers press down on my cheeks ever so slightly. I lean in, just a little bit. I open my eyes. And the world erupts in light.

Brian

He finally opens his eyes, and relief breezes through me. I was doing so well at explaining myself, but then he wouldn’t look at me and my voice fractured, worrying that he was permanently damaged because of me, that he’d never recover and he’d live his whole life thinking I despise him. But now he’s staring at me and I think it’ll all be okay. I fall into his eyes, practically drowning, I feel like I’m drowning and drowning in Noah.

I wipe the last few remaining tears from his cheek, and we’re so fucking close. When did we get this close? I can feel his breath every time he exhales, we’re sharing the same air and it’s like lightning instead of oxygen. I feel like a rocket, traveling light years upon light years every second. Our eyes are locked and there’s nothing else in this entire universe. I can tell he doesn’t really believe a word I said about not being mad. He’s so distraught, his face screaming with worry and doubt and I can’t stand it. So I lean forward and kiss him. Simple. Except it’s really not, because as soon as our lips meet it’s a supernova. Shit, it’s a million supernovas. Stars exploding and exploding in every square inch of my body, light shooting out of every cell and overflowing my veins. It’s nuclear fusion. He’s got one hand on my back now, and a hand in my hair. I’m trying to tell him so much with this kiss, trying to convince him that I’m not mad anymore, that he has no reason to worry so much, that it’s breaking my heart to see him like this and I can’t stand it. So I just keep kissing him and kissing him and kissing him.

Noah

He’s kissing me, it’s an explosion of fire and color and _everything,_ the entire freaking universe is in his lips. His name is running laps around my soul.

Brian

He moans my name, and my brain shudders until all I can think about is him.

Noah

I can feel his eyelashes fluttering on my cheek, and I’m running my fingers through his hair and this is so good, _so good_. We’re breathing the same air and I think our souls are fusing into one being, I think I’m not just one half of a split-apart anymore, and I want to shout it from the top of the highest tree in this forest. I want to shout until my lungs give out, but my lungs are currently more than a little busy breathing Brian in. And I’m far from mad about it.

Brian

The kiss turns less desperate and fierce, and as Noah’s hands drift across my back and through my hair, we kiss slower and deeper than before. This is us talking without words, telling each other everything we weren’t saying before. This is him finally beginning to believe that I’m not mad. This is me realizing that I would do anything for him, that I can’t ever let him break and shatter like that again.

That I love him.

I really think I love him, with my entire heart.

It’s too much right now, too soon and too quick. I won’t say anything. But I’ll keep kissing him, keep letting my soul pour out of my body and into his.

Noah

We kiss slowly for who knows how long, until my lungs are raging from the sparks, and his mouth, _his everything_ , is permanently engraved in my brain. My heart is filled with stars. Everyone forgets that stars are made of fire.

He gently pulls away and I immediately follow, trying to kiss him again. My face is lost without his pressed right against it. He laughs, presses soft kisses to my nose and my cheeks and my forehead and my chin and I could stay here forever, for absolutely my entire life.

“Hey, Noah,” he starts to say, still laughing softly. “As much as I want to keep kissing you...” he trails off and kisses my nose again. He’s not saying anything else, so I pull him in for more. I can almost feel him lean into it, but then he breaks away with a soft smile and serious eyes. It takes him a few tries to get the words out, but he gets there eventually.

“We’ve got to actually talk. We can’t just kiss in the forest and expect everything to disappear.” My smile falls, and everything fades out. I knew this was coming. Of course this can’t be real, and how stupid could I be to think that the kisses meant something? It just felt so good, so perfect, but I guess that was the hope talking. I’m so stupid, I should have known, I should never have-

“Noah, don’t go there. Don’t think that way.” The words cut through, his voice strangled, and how did he know? How does he know exactly what is going through my head? I must be wearing my emotions all over. I had gotten so good at hiding everything I thought and felt from everyone else, at shoving down the color in my veins and coating myself in flame retardant. But here’s Brian again and I can’t do anything like that, every single emotion I feel is burning on the surface.

“Believe me when I say that I’m not mad. Please, Noah, please believe me. What you did was… not great, to say the least.” He tries to laugh it off a little, but I can tell he’s struggling. “But all of the emotions I felt when it happened… they’ve dissolved. Like cosmic dust.” I definitely have no idea what cosmic dust is, but I’m trying to keep listening. I’m trying not to let my thoughts run wild again, trying to focus on what he’s saying. So I watch his mouth form the words, his freckles jump on his cheeks, his Adam's apple bob when he swallows, his eyes calve and weaken and implode. “I think there was a part of me, deep inside, a part of me that was still mad and hurt and everything, but seeing you like this today, like… shit… ” He’s faltering. Breaking down right in front of me. So I take my hand from his back and move it to his hips, holding tight. Grounding him. I guess it works, because he breathes a long, slow breath, out and in. “Seeing you crumpled on the ground sort of, unbroke me. I forgive you, Noah, I’m not mad, please believe me.”

I think I do.

Brian

He looks like he’s at war with himself, trying to process my words and his feelings and the past and everything in between then and now, him and me. Then he lets out a desperate breath and collapses into me. I wrap my arms around him, holding him so he doesn’t break any more. He’s a fragile sort of thing, bony and scrunched.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my shoulder. He breathes the words out, barely making a solid sound. I don’t know what else to say, so I tell him it’s alright again and start tracing my fingers lightly along the back of his neck. I make delicate circles on his soft skin, along the collar of his t-shirt, through his wispy hairline. He softens against me, and I can feel tension slowly releasing through every breath. Every so often I brush the right spot and he shivers, and it feels good. _So good_. Once he’s relaxed and I don’t think I’m the only thing holding him up anymore, we sit down and lean against our tree. I take his hand in mine, intertwine our legs, rest my head on his shoulder. I never want to stop touching him. I feel like I’d suffocate without a connection, I think he’s my lifeline now.

We sit like that for a while, relaxing into each other and letting the trees wash over us. I’d bet a million bucks he’s mind painting. I turn and put my head in his lap, so he starts running his fingers through my hair and holy shit, this is everything. _Everything_. The golden light makes his eyes sparkle and the leaves above him turn into a halo; it’s fucking ethereal. His fingers in my hair and my head in his lap and the sun in his eyes and my fingers on his elbow and his hand rubbing circles on my stomach and I’m in the clouds, or on the surface of the sun, or underneath a meteor shower, or all at once. It’s perfect and I breathe in the moment and wish, not for the first time, that I could paint half as well as Noah so I could trap this in my soul forever.

He sucks in a deep breath and starts to talk. He tells me about the day he outed me, how he found out about the affair and screamed at his mom, and then how she died. What a fucking disaster. With every word and story that comes out of his mouth, my heart collapses for 14-year-old Noah, going through all this in one day, and then shatters for 16-year-old Noah, living with these ghosts and hurting so much.

"I'm not trying to… excuse what I did," Noah says. "Me, um, outing you was awful. And I'll never stop being sorry. But I just thought you should know what happened that day. All of it." He's right, because knowing it makes the picture clearer. Everything simplifies, falling into place, and I think it's making more sense. There'd been sort of a gaping hole there in my memory of the reasoning behind it, the _why_. On dark nights, when I crouched in the cave right along with the shred of Noah in my mind, my thoughts ran wild thinking about it all. Jealousy, I had guessed at first. Then I came to the conclusion that I had done something to make him mad, to make him want revenge. But now it all fits, because it turns out everything accumulated into a massive volcanic eruption, an earthquake, a tsunami, all at the same fucking time. I just ended up on the other end of it.

I realize he's still waiting for me to say something, so I do. "I'm glad you told me, Noah. I think… everything… it makes more sense now." I swallow, collect my thoughts. "But I'm so, so sorry it all happened like that. I can't believe it, I can't believe that you had to deal with that and you're dealing with it still and god, I'm so sorry I wasn't here to help you or be with you, but I'm here now. I'm here, Noah, I'm here and I always will be. We don't get to do this again, we can never fall out like we did. I won't survive it a second time." He's smiling a soft smile that makes my heart burst into flame, in a good way this time. I never, ever want to lose him again. But I can't really say anything else with that blinding smile right above me, so I reach up and kiss him. It's still just as good, as overwhelmingly perfect as it was two years ago.

Noah

It's good to tell him everything. It’s completely freeing, and I feel like this massive weight of the entire world has been lifted, the weight of fitting in and keeping secrets and losing art and shutting him out of my own mind but still hanging on by one last thread of hope. He says he never wants to lose me again, and I can't put into words how me losing him would be the end. It would be the end of all the color in the universe, of all the forests and the waves and the planets and the sun. If I lose him again, the stars will go out. But he's kissing me and reminding me that it's not going to happen again, I won't lose him and he won't lose me. This is starting to feel like forever, and I don't think I've ever been more relieved in my entire life.

I want to tell him every single thing that has happened in the past two years. I want to tell him everything I can think of, and then I want to listen to him talk about his life. I want him to tell me absolutely anything. But we have time for that, endless amounts of time, now that he's here and not going anywhere. I pull away because I want to look into his eyes, and I stare at his head in my lap. His head is _in my lap_. I never want it to leave. I count his freckles, because they're adorable and I can barely stand it.

"Brian, your freckles! I love your freckles so much," I say since I can't help it. I've gotta tell him because just the freckles alone are bouncing around in my chest and saturating the color around me. It's beautiful. I want him to know all the things that make my heart race and my breathing flutter. My voice is raspy and quiet but my heartbeat is jumping out of my chest as I talk. "Your hair is so soft… it's like a waterfall of blinding light." I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth, for the first time since the disaster I can say everything that's running through my head out loud. The blush that's appearing on his cheeks makes it more than worth it because it creates an immediate spasm in my chest. My heart is filling my entire body and it almost hurts to breathe, but it's the good kind of hurt that I haven't felt in the longest time. I'm sure I must be blushing too, but I couldn't care less. I'm thinking of more things to say, because every place we’re touching is a live wire and I can feel his breathing hitch, and I want to trap this feeling in a bottle to carry with me all of the time.

(Portrait, Self-portrait: _Electric Words and Hearts for Lungs_ )

"Your hands are pretty, they're rough and perfect and wonderful,” I tell him, and it’s true. I’m getting bolder and more desperate to fill the entire forest with this feeling, so I continue. “I want to kiss your knuckles and the palm of your hand and your fingertips." I take the hand not occupied with his hair and play with his fingers for a bit, rubbing circles around the knuckles and tracing along his wrist and smoothing out the lines in his palm. He swallows and closes his eyes for just a second too long, leaning into the moment.

Brian

Noah’s touch, his words, _this feeling_ , it’s making my heart fizz and my stomach drop right out from under me. I think it could power a fucking space ship, it’s enough energy to send me hurtling through space forever and ever. This is the best, most real thing I’ve felt in so long. I look up at him, at his pretty face, his brilliant eyes.

“Your eyes,” I say, “are this perfect, rich brown that I think makes everyone else’s boring in comparison, so boring, and I think I’d be completely content to never look at anything else in my entire life because the entire world is in there, all your art and the forest and the stars. You have constellations in your eyes, Noah, they glitter and they’re beautiful.” I’m rambling. Words just poured and poured out of my mouth, but I don’t think he minds. He’s never minded my rants. He giggles, and it’s absolutely adorable. Shit, I think my entire life’s goal should be for Noah to giggle as much as possible. Screw baseball, screw Stanford, I’ll just stay right here and live off of his laugh. I’m so caught up in it that the next words coming out of my mouth don’t even register in my brain until after I’ve said them.

“I love you.”

For a second he looks startled, maybe even scared. I start to think that I’ve messed up again, I took things too fast, shit Brian, he doesn’t feel the same way anymore. But his face clears and he looks totally blissed out, with this goofy smile on his face and those starry eyes.

“So damn much,” he says, and it’s perfect.

It feels like we’ve nearly said it before, sometime before the disaster and before we broke apart. Almost as if it’s always been true, underlying and undeniable. It’s probably too cliche to say we’re soulmates, but it feels right. Noah would say we’re split-aparts.

Noah

We’re split-aparts. Brian just said he loves me, he loves me, and this isn’t a dream. It’s real life, Brian’s right here. My split-apart. It’s confirmed that every good feeling I’ve ever felt about him is true, I wasn’t making it up, because he loves me. As much as I love him. We’re in love. We’re split-aparts. I can’t stop thinking it, never want to stop thinking it.

Brian sits up, cross-legged, but I need him closer. I don’t want to be even a few feet apart right now. So I sit in his lap. He laughs, and I turn around to face him and snuggle in until we’re touching all over. His hands are on my waist and I have a hand in his hair and one on his face, tracing his freckles. I lean down and kiss him, again and again, until he withdraws and leans his head on my chest. I’m perfectly content to keep playing with his hair. We sit so, so close, and it’s nice. _It's so nice_.

“I love you,” I whisper into his hair, just because I can say it now. He says it right back, slightly muffled and breathy and it’s so good to hear. The sun’s setting and the trees feel like a mirror, reflecting all my sappy feelings in a blaze of green.

Brian

It’s getting dark out, and even though I’d be perfectly happy right here for the rest of my life, I decide that we should probably leave the forest. I look up at him, at those lovely eyes and his lovely face.

“Noah, baby,” I say, which makes my heart ache with good feelings compounded, “we should go.” He looks a little sad, disappointed that our magical little bubble is bursting, but he nods. I stand up and then pull him to his feet, leaves trampled underneath. We kiss softly, lazily, for a bit until we turn and walk out, holding hands. As soon as we leave the trees I see Jude and their dad sitting on the porch. My face flashes red and I drop Noah’s hand immediately, because what if he’s not out? What if our perfect happiness is only allowed where no one else can see, where only the trees can see how much I love him? And even though I want every single person in my life to know about Noah, to know how beautiful he is and how happy I am that this mess of the past few years is over, I’d survive.

But Noah grabs my hand again and glances at me with a look that’s shy but determined, and the smile I return probably takes up my entire face. I don’t have to think about how this means we’re out to his dad now, or how this is proof of what Jude probably already knew. All that matters right now is Noah, the fire overtaking my entire brain, and the promise that I’m never letting him go.

Noah

The sunset is the color of my soul: redorangepurple flames, that crackly electric feeling, breathing in heartbeats, _happiness_. Pure, indescribable happiness.

(Portrait, Self-portrait: _Fire Boys in Love, and in Love, and in Love, and in Love_ )

**Author's Note:**

> okay so writing this took forever,,, mostly cuz I had barely any motivation and worked on it like once a month over the summer lol. apologies if you've been waiting since may but it's finally here, hope you liked it, etc etc.  
> I could probably rant all day about the amount of Literary Shit I put in here but i'm gonna nicely save yall from that pain  
> if you're not already here because of my instagram account, you should go follow me! it's @/the_invisible_museum and i'm one of very few active igyts accounts, pretty much the entire fandom lol. I try to post somewhat occasionally but I'm kinda bad at it,, also I write headcanons in the captions so that's fun  
> and lastly but not leastly, remember to stay hydrated, and if it's past 3am, you should probably get some sleep. love yall :)


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